I might even be able to be talked into being whipped. I won't be tied though. The desperate urge to be able to defend myself should (God forbid) halfw...y through my bondage session, my mistress decides she didn't like the fact that I had lunch with a female friend some time ago and decides to castrate yours truly with a rusty g****fruit spoon.Now, on the surface this might not sound like a problem, but two things need to be made clear. The first is that I seem to attract mentally unstable people. Why hadn't I worn my jockey shorts? If I had, I would surely now be poking outside my pajamas, ready to feel her hot breath, and maybe even her wet tongue. But I was stuck inside, making this ridiculous tent.Mom's head moved forward and I gathered her hair in my hands, holding it up behind her head as she leaned in. I wanted to pull my pajamas down but was afraid to take the initiative. Please poke out. Please. But I wasn't long enough.No matter. Mom's head kept coming and her face bumped my. The others came in and joined us when we called.After breakfast, I showed dad my new ride, and we had fun going over it. Dad said it needed some adjustments, and we took it over to the shop. We let Paul and Nina wander around Bargara, while we worked on the truck.I called the hospital from the shop and asked about the Joneses. I’d learned their names from the police. They said they couldn’t tell me much as I had to be family, but the parents were both doing well, and they would be able to go. ’ Dad didn’t sound like he was even convincing himself, though. ‘C’mon, Barbara,’ Uncle Troy persisted. ‘You know you want it.’ ‘Stop it!’ ‘Aaawwww, honey, a sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be up here in that obscene outfit playing sick clothing games. Let’s take that off and bend you over so Little Troy can make you mewl and beg.’ ‘STOP IT!’ ‘She’s up here,’ I heard my aunt’s voice in the hall. Two police officers stepped into the room, two paramedics behind them. ‘Mrs Wood? We’re here.